The Tithe
by SaerasChuu
Summary: A One shot about what a tithe is thinking at the Happy Jack camp. Lame summary.


This... is my first fanfic. If you can call it that. Maybe, just maybe, it will be good. It will make zero sense if you haven't read the Neal Shusterman YA novel, _**Unwind**_. I recommend it.

For the record, unwinding refers to having your organs/bodily parts removed, basically turned into a puzzle in pieces. You don't DIE, you're just IN PIECES.

If you have read it, you should get it... um, yeah. I feel so fascinated with what people think before... during... after... stuff happens. Maybe this will be the only one. Maybe I'll make more. I don't know.

_**The Tithe Boy**_

Finally, he had arrived. He felt so proud, so great, so... _worthy_. He was important. Not like those _terribles_ whom he could feel staring at them. They were angry. He was gold. They were rusted iron. He had a magnificent purpose here to fulfill, and they had the honor of seeing him and all his fellows before they became _what people needed_. God's gifts to many, many others.

After they had changed into their white clothes, the preacher had told them all about it. They were to walk to a _special_ dorm, just for them. A nicer one, just for these _special_ people. Not at _all_ like those delinquents and storked babies and unwanted souls.

No, not unwanted souls. Such useless, purposeless _things_, no better than any animal used for _their_ meat, had no souls. They were **UN**nessisary, **UN**wanted, **UN**able to cope; they were filthy **UN**winds.

He felt so superior to them. After all, they had made the choice to not do anything _worthwhile_. He had his purpose from his birth, to be-

_in the exact same position. I was never expected to be able to do anything else. I never even given a choice. I was always going to be unwound, just like every single terrible here._

Of course, his _tithing_ (NOT unwinding, those are for terribles) had been decided before he had been born. His was going to be **grand** _(Not that anyone would ever remember his name, save his parents. Who wouldn't miss him at all. After all, they had given him up for his _**_magnificent_**_ duty.)_and he would save lives _(even if he never really had one)_ and his soul would ascend to that higher plane with the lord _(but he wouldn't be dead. He would be in pieces, but not dead. But he would ascend to the higher plane anyway, because his soul couldn't be in all those little bits of what he was- or, is.)_.

Walking through the yard, the unwinds were playing games. The Tithes were lined up in rows, walking in step, briskly, not allowed to look at the unwinds around them. _Making the most of their lives._ Of course, they had to ensure everyone was healthy...

The boy next to him looked _wrong_ somehow. Like he was an unwind, not a tithe. He _desperately _wanted to look around, he could tell, but was not allowed to. To see what, he did not know, but it was killing him. The preacher noticed.

But he was paying attention to what the unwinds were whispering.

"_Damned tithes. 'sa freaking rose by 'nother name."_

"_Those guys are HAPPY to be unwound. Like, it's an important mission for them."_

"_I feel kinda sorry."_

"_**HOW!**"_

"_They think what they're doing is noble. They think it's right."_

"_Oh well, does it matter? We're all going to the exact same place."_

After everyone had settled in to the dorm, the preacher spoke up-

"Welcome to what you magnificent young men and women have waited your entire lives for." He laughed, a bit too hard. "Now, everyone should get along. We're all friends here, awaiting your appointment with destiny!"

HIS appointment was in an hour.

"Welcome to Happy Jack! Now I know some of you had a bit of a rough trip getting here" he eyeballed the other boy, "but we are glad everything is on track now. Blessed are ye souls, who are giving all ye can give to a greater cause." _(Cause our lives aren't worth living. They never were.)_ "Now, everyone relax, get to to know each other, and enjoy the glow of what God has given to you. God has blessed you with a special task."

15 minutes passed.

_No one will ever know I was here._

30 minutes passed.

_I will be a part of the solution to someone else's problem. Many peoples' problems. I will fix the broken. I will be part of the whole._

32 minutes passed.

_I will be broken. I will not be whole._

45 minutes passed.

He was being walked passed some kind of music room. There was a read carpet leading to the door he had to go through. They played well, but they seemed too young- were they Unwinds? It didn't matter, for he was being hustled by so fast by the preacher. A lone guard stood between him and what he had been waiting for his entire life.

The guard couldn't have cared less WHO it was going in.

"_**God has blessed you with a special task.**"_

It happened so **_FAST_**.

He was on a table, A woman was above him, talking to him, sweetly, kindly. So much so, he hadn't fully realized that had begun taking him apart until they reached his neck.

"_You're so brave!"_

"_Scalpel."_

"_You're doing wonderful, honey."_

_No I'm not. I'm not doing anything. I'm not even a person anymore. I'm a disembodied head._

"L-lady-"

"Don't speak, dear."

_I can't even talk anymore._

A minute later, he really couldn't.

He sees someone pass his jaw over his head. Then he can't see anything. Nothing but the big ol' head muscle.

The doctors assume he can't hear them. The lady walks away. He thinks. He can't do anything but think.

_Will it be like this forever? Me doing nothing but this, hearing, but never...? Never..._

He wants to cry, but he can't.

_Please stop._

He wants to kick, but he can't.

_I remember my family... my friends... I miss them..._

He wants to breathe, but he can't.

_I remember playing with them... laughing with them... having fun with them._

He wants to hold someone's hand, but he can't.

_Who was I thinking about?_

He wants to remember, but he can't.

_Who am I? What am I doing here? What is this?_

He wants to remain, but he can't.

_I'm still alive... still..._

He wants to think, but he can't.

…

He can only feel now, not that anyone would notice. Yet, if he could put everything he feels into words-

* * *

_**I want to SCREAM.**_

...Wow, fail. This is way longer than I thought it would be. Yet I don't really... like it. I don't know. The middle was just a weird turn, but... maybe I should have broken it up...


End file.
